The Road My Cycle Knows

A little rust on the frame, the bell doesn’t always ring right.
But every turn of the wheel still remembers something.

Morning light slipping through trees. Empty lanes after rain.
The sound of tyres against wet road - steady, honest, alive.

Sometimes I ride without a reason. No destination, no timer, no hurry.
Just me, the hum of rubber, and air that smells of somewhere familiar.

My cycle doesn’t care how fast I go - it only listens when I slow down.
It’s the one thing that still reminds me: movement doesn’t always mean escape.

Maybe that’s why I keep riding.

Because some roads don’t take you away - they quietly bring you back to yourself.